


A Woman's Power is in her Secrets

by ellis_end



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Femslash, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27779080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellis_end/pseuds/ellis_end
Summary: Still devastated by her Ma's death Charlotte tries to make her way as a bawd. One evening an unexpected visitor brings news that weeks before her death her Ma lost the house in a came of cards to an agent playing on behalf of a great heiress, Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam of Blayne...
Relationships: Isabella Fitzwilliam/Charlotte Wells
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	1. Unexpected Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> Heya :)  
> This story is slightly canon divergent but not much. I'll include bits and pieces, if not entire scenes from the show.   
> My plan for this story so far is 4 chapters... I might consider a sequel if you guys like it   
> Enjoy

The floorboards creaked beneath her heels as Charlotte descended the stairs. It was late in the afternoon, the last hour of relative peace before gentlemen callers of high status would flood her house on Greek Street, looking for a drink and a warm blooded body of a woman to forget about their wives and the woes of their mundane lives.

Charlotte was dressed and wigged, ready to oversee her girls for the night, when business was at its busiest and the bawd’s assistance most required. _Her_ girls, that still sounded so alien and strange. Just a few weeks ago she was one of them, entertaining culls and prancing around without a care in the world as long as she snatched a few clients and earned a few quid. But now it was she who was responsible for the smooth running of the entire operation, and above all, the safety of her girls.

A dull pang in her chest reminded her how this came to be, how her Ma’s cold lifeless body found on the bank of the river Thames, left her to fill in the role of bawd of the Greek Street brothel. The family was almost sure that her Ma’s death was the work of an especially malicious cull, which she sometimes still entertained, even as a bawd, when times were hard. That didn’t stop Nancy from hiring boys to look for clues as for who is the culprit far and wide.

At the bottom of the stairs stood Fanny, her vibrant red hair fallen upon her face like a curtain hiding her flushed cheek as she whispered sweet nothings into the ear of a cull, who’s face was, having abandoned all restraint, indignantly hidden in her pale bosom.

Finally reaching the ground floor Charlotte’s attention was drawn towards the entrance where William North, the house bully, her mother’s long-time lover and virtually a father to her and her sister stood engaged in a conversation with a man whom Charlotte dismissed as a client. However her interest picked up when Will turning back unceremoniously called out for her before spotting his target at the bottom of the staircase.

‘’Charlotte,’’ he said beckoning her over ‘’This is Mr. Russell, a banker’’ he nodded towards the gentleman who bowed his head momentarily in a form of greeting as Charlotte approached ‘’ ‘E says ‘e ‘as business with you’’

‘’I do not entertain anymore sir’’ Charlotte mistook him for a man looking for pleasure with her ‘’But we ‘ave plenty of girls to choose from, anything your heart desires’’

Charlotte didn’t recognise the man, he wasn’t a regular nor anyone else she has ever seen around the house before, but the again so many men streamed through the brothel, it was impossible to remember them all.

‘’Oh no madam, you mistake my intention’’ Mr. Russell looked abashed and quite uncomfortable ‘’I have been sent here to converse with you on matters most important’’

‘’By whom?’’ she asked, her hands instinctively finding their way to her hips as she assumed a defensive stance.

The man looked towards Will momentarily before directing his eyes at Charlotte with an expressive look in his eyes.

‘’I shall reveal that… In private’’

The bawd and her bully exchanged a knowing glance before she retreated towards the staircase beckoning the banker to follow.

Once seated on an old worn chaise in the small upstairs parlour reserved only for the best of guests, and occasionally acting as an office, Charlotte, sitting with her chin tilted diplomatically, took a second to study the man cautiously. He was no more that fifty years of age, his speech was eloquent yet clothes rather plain, sporting an even plainer wig, he was obviously not accustomed to wearing.

‘’Who sends you and what is your business ‘ere?’’ Charlotte finally spoke.

‘’Miss Wells’’ he said politely, adjusting the flaps of his grey jacket ‘’I have been sent here on behalf of Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam, the Heiress of Blayne’’

Charlotte couldn’t lie, Mr. Russell certainly secured her attention, she was intrigued. What did a lady of, judging by her title, rather high status want with her, a bawd of one of the mist notorious whore houses in London? She supposed the lady’s husband or male relative might have gotten himself into an undesirable or superfluous situation with one of her girls. Emotional attachment or a pregnancy perhaps? Charlotte hoped neither, as both would be most troublesome for her.

‘’And what does her Ladyship want with a bawd?’’ Charlotte asked amused and intrigued.

Mr. Russell took in a deep breath as if bracing himself to deliver unpleasant news. Charlotte could tell he was one of these men who found the company of women awkward and rarely attended places like these.

‘’Three weeks ago on the night of the 2nd March one of Lady Fitzwilliam’s men won this building in a game of hazard with the previous… ahem... proprietress of this establishment’’ he momentarily glanced at a document he had earlier spread, rather awkwardly, across his lap ‘’Margaret Wells’’

Charlotte was stunned and at lack of words. She was never the one to fall silent from surprise, grief or any other strong emotion, her sharp mind rushing her along every situation, but not now. She sighed and her chest heaved from emotion. The news felt like a bullet to the heart. Only two weeks ago she has lost her mother and now she was about loose the brothel too? Overwhelmed by emotion and disbelief at her Ma’s rashness Charlotte stuttered indignantly.

‘’W-what do you mean?’’

Mr. Russell cleared his throat obviously less them comfortable in the situation he found himself in.

‘’Your mother, Miss Wells, has lost the house in a game of cards to Lady Fitzwilliam’s agent. Her Ladyship wishes to meet with you in order to procure the house documents and arrange ahem… your egress’’

After Mr. Russell politely took his leave Charlotte was left pondering on the fate awaiting herself, her family and her girls, finally deciding on a course of action. She was a Wells woman, she would bargain and beg her way out of the mess her Ma has made.

**~~~**

The carriage wobbled on the cobblestone which lined the drive to the manor, enough for Charlotte to have to hold her heavy wig from falling as she cursed under her breath. But having found herself in this precarious situation she had no choice but to accept Lady Fitzwilliam’s invitation to her manor, far beyond London proper, a territory as unknown to Charlotte as the New World.

So here she was, two weeks after Mr. Russell’s visit to Greek Street riding up a long drive to a magnificent, lavish manor with perfectly maintained gardens stretching across hundreds of acres. Those last two weeks were spent at plotting, overthinking and worrying about their future. The whole household was out of their minds with worry. Will, always the pragmatic, was already looking for another place to live while Nancy employed her girls at fishing out any small pieces of information they could about the infamous Heiress of Blayne from culls in hope of finding some incriminating material that Charlotte could use as leverage in her meeting, but all was in vain. The success of this visit was the only thing separating them from life on the streets.

At the door Charlotte was greeted by two wigged guards with faux spears, a sign of excess. Inside a white wigged steward, clad in a habit à la française made of the best materials, led her through the halls, a display of lavishly coloured carpets and walls decorated with six feet tall portraits. Soon they reached a salon which doors guarded the person of Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam herself.

‘’Miss Charlotte Wells’’ the steward announced before proceeding to retreat almost bent down in half while closing the heavy wooden double doors, which Charlotte found quite amusing.

Isabella Fitzwilliam was a woman of grace, a thing Charlotte was sure of the second she laid her eyes on her. She was tall and of quite striking beauty with big blue eyes which the bawd couldn’t help notice perhaps carried a sense of sadness within them. She stood dignified amongst expensive chaises, porcelain vases and shelves full of leather bound books.

‘’Miss Wells’’ her low voice had a soft note to it as a polite reserved smile graced her lips.

‘’Lady Fitzwilliam’’ Charlotte returned the court greeting with a small practiced smile of her own.

‘’Please sit’’ the lady motioned towards a lavishly ornamented sofa before taking up a seat on the opposite chaise.

‘’Do you always take your business meetings in the parlour?’’ Charlotte teased light heartedly partly to dispel the silence that settled between them as Isabella studied her intently, partly to calm her racing heart with the familiar adoption of the quick wit that made her ever so popular amongst the gentleman of London.

‘’I reserve it only for the ‘meteor of the hour’’’ Lady Isabella reciprocated with a smart remark referring to the infamous title Charlotte has gained amongst the gentlemen of the beau monde.

However Lady Isabella was quick to put all pleasantries aside as she repositioned herself in her seat in order to adopt an air of confidence, her clasped hands laying stiffly in her lap.

‘’Miss Wells, I trust my bookkeeper Mr. Russell has familiarised you with the situation’’ upon receiving a nod of agreement from Charlotte she continued ‘’Do not fear, I have no intention of depriving you of your home and business’’

Charlotte listened intently. Despite of this proclamation of good will, she was still wary of the lady’s true intentions. Somewhere at the back on her mind she couldn’t help noticing the pleasant intonation of the lady’s voice, a certain gift for captivating one’s listener many well educated ladies of the beau monde possessed, a storyteller’s gift. However as charming as Lady Isabella was, Charlotte knew there was always more to the game, especially when it came to the upper class circles.

‘’But?’’ she inquired trying to keep her cool despite a terrible feeling in her stomach that there was a bigger price to pay to keep her house than just money.

‘’I have only one condition…Help me bring Lydia Quigley to ruin’’

Charlotte couldn’t say she wasn’t surprised. It was quite forward, and perhaps reckless, of Isabella to express this sentiment to a woman she was barely acquainted with, a woman of loose morals to that. But from a certain note in her voice and a look in her eye, Charlotte soon understood her to be perhaps desperate enough not to care. She wondered what would bring such a woman, well trained in the art of passivity and hidden emotions, to show such recklessness.

‘’It shouldn’t be a problem considering she is a rival madam as, her establishment, as I understand has been a nuisance to yours for some time now’’ the Heiress of Blayne added seemingly nonchalantly.

She wasn’t wrong, but Lydia Quigley was not only a rivalling madam but something of a nemesis to Charlotte Wells, who only a year ago fled her house for the safety of her Ma’s having witnessed Quigley’s cruelty first hand. For some time before she had been her protegee of sorts, her best girl. But now in her eyes Quigley was the devil incarnate, a woman who ruined the lives of innocent girls by luring them into her house under the pretense of protection before selling them off to be raped by the most callous of men. Taking down Lydia Quigley would be her pleasure. This could be an opportunity to finally avenge the lives of all the innocent girls, including her own Ma’s, that the hag Quigley has ruined.

‘’She is the only one I wish to ruin’’ Charlotte professed deciding place a little trust in the lady seeing as she herself had revealed her intentions to her.

Lady Fitzwilliam graced her with a careful smile, satisfied with the response. ‘’Very well’’ she said ‘’Come to me at breakfast. Tell no one of our endeavours.’’

‘’My lips are sealed’’ Charlotte smirked content with the outcome of the visit.

**~~~**

Seated in a carriage once again Charlotte contemplated her meeting with Lady Fitzwilliam. She was a captivating woman, that was clear. Yet Charlotte remained cautious for she was still in the dark regarding the reason for the Lady’s desire to bring Lydia Quigley to her demise.


	2. Friend and Alyy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1700s is a bit early for them but in this chapter I mentioned toshers, people who's job was to scavenge the sewers in London during the Victorian era. 
> 
> !!!TW: mentions of r*pe!!!

At breakfast next morning Charlotte and Isabella spent hours plotting and planning. Still tentative around each other, not quite sure trusting one another but both equally desperate enough to carry on with their agreement. Charlotte in order to keep her house, Isabella harbouring a secret of her own.

They had decided that the best course of action was to plant a spy in Lydia Quigley’s house in order to learn of its internal machinations and perhaps any secrets its madam might harbour. It had to be someone they could trust, someone Quigley would not recognise, someone silly enough to involve themselves in this potentially dangerous scheme, yet intelligent enough not to fail in it. 

After much consideration Charlotte decided on one of her more trusted girls, Alice. A young, perhaps slightly more naïve girl but extremely comprehensive, shrewd and not without the ability to charm her way through a situation, a virtue quite valuable to persons of their profession. Perhaps not the ideal choice, but closest to what was needed for the job and what was at hand, Charlotte explained to Lady Isabella who sat in her usual upright dignified manner listening intently to every word escaping Charlotte’s mouth. 

Lady Fitz, as Charlotte has taken to calling her, provided ‘the bait’ for Alice’s acceptance of her role in their scheme, of which purpose she was quite unaware, knowing no more than that her bawd wanted her to spy on Lydia Quigley while pretending to work in her house. And that if she executed her role  correctly, she would receive a hundred guineas, provided by who, she knew not.

At first Nancy and Will were suspicious of Charlotte’s frequent visits to Blayne manor but soon, by Charlotte’s own insinuation, they accepted it as the young bawd simply choosing to a regular cull, which although uncommon for a bawd, wasn’t completely unheard of. It wasn’t the first time a cull chose to be entertained in their home, nor has this cull been a woman of high standing. 

Charlotte also had to admit that she has grown to quite enjoy her visits to Blayne manor. They provided her with a break from the business and constant rush of Greek Street. The company of Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam wasn’t altogether unpleasant either.

~*~

Charlotte, wigged and dressed to the nines, ambled through the gardens under the cover of night, surrounded by loud chatter and gentle croon of string instruments. 

A few weeks  ago, she had received an invitation to the Pleasure Gardens, a yearly occasion of nightly debauchery hosted by Lord Fallon, her sister Lucy’s keeper. That was no doubt the reason behind her invitation. He had instructed her to bring her girls as well, she did not object, it was good business after all. 

Charlotte wasn’t surprised to see a few of Quigley’s girls sauntering off with drunken lords as she passed past the fire jugglers suddenly illuminated by a flash of fireworks from above.  However, she certainly wasn’t pleased, she had a bad feeling whenever Dame Death was around.

Walking along a bank, Charlotte could see her reflection, glittering in the water below. There was certainly no mistaking she was a harlot. Her elegant tall wig didn’t fool anyone, the colourful paint on her face, and the décolletage of her inexpensive dress gave it all away. 

Spotting one of her new girls standing about idly with a lost, uncertain look in her eyes Charlotte was about to make her way towards her to reprimand and instruct, when a servant in a pristine wig stopped in front of her with a bow. He extended towards her a gloved hand holding a metal plate upon which lay a single rose, a beautiful thing coloured like the gentle pale pink blush of a morning sky.

‘’A rose for Miss Charlotte Wells’’ he said.

Charlotte picked up the flower, delicately bringing it to her nose. It smelt just as good as it looked.

‘’From who?’’ she asked baffled at this gesture, if she was not a harlot, one might say of courtship. 

The servant leaned his head gently to his right and just as quickly he has appeared, he was gone. Charlotte followed his gaze and there, across the reservoir of water, under a tent, basking in the gentle glow of candlelight, sat the goddess herself, and she certainly looked like one, Charlotte admitted to herself. Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam looked quite transformed in a creamy peach coloured gown elaborately embroidered with lace. On her head was a tall blonde, almost white wig. Layers of thick paint covered the usual wrinkles underneath her eyes, it made her look both dainty, alluring and seductive. Her eyes which usually housed a sense of worry were now masked with politeness. But above all Charlotte noticed a rose, just as pink, just as identical as her own, being spun by Lady Isabella’s long delicate fingers as she leant back seemingly nonchalant and unperturbed by the debauchery happening all around her. 

As Isabella’s eyes caught her own a daring look passed through them as a small, almost unnoticeable, smile graced her lips, before it was all gone, the Lady’s attention once again focused on one of the gentlemen by her side. Charlotte wondered what was an unmarried lady doing at this sort of event.

Just the Charlotte remembered about the girl she was about to set straight but as she glanced in her direction, she saw her slouched on a gentleman’s shoulder, laughing at one of his jokes. The bawd felt relief wash over her, one less problem to worry about tonight, she thought. With a few rounds around the gardens made and her girls occupied with culls Charlotte with nothing better to do in mind for at least the nearest future made her way around the reservoir towards Lady Fitz’s tent.

Isabella sat still mindlessly listening to one of Lord Howard’s endless stories as she tried desperately not to glance towards the approaching Miss Wells every few moments. She was weary of her company, yet unable to show it, and the harlot, she was certain, would provide her with a perfect reason to excuse herself. 

As Charlotte approached, Isabella noticed the wicked smirk on her face.

‘’A rose is a symbol of desire, is it not Lady Fitz?’’ she mused almost flirtatiously, although Isabella was sure such was the instinct of those with her profession. 

‘’Of admiration’’ the heiress corrected softly trying her best however to hide the blush creeping up her neck.

The women exchanged a toast in silence both content in each other’s company. This peace however didn’t last long as Isabella’s body suddenly stiffened, mirth escaping from her blue eyes, the smile dissolving from her pink lips as she felt a big cold bony hand clasp itself possessively on her shoulder. 

This sudden change of spirit didn’t go unnoticed by Charlotte who beheld the newcomer with interest. 

The man was a high status, of that Charlotte was sure. His white wig was powdered almost to perfection and his waistcoat was ornamented so richly it nearly outshone every other man present. His face was pale and wrinkled revealing him to be a man past his prime. His eyes were blue, as Isabella’s, but dull, conveying no good humour as his thin lips stretched into a pleasant, almost amused smile. 

‘’Allow me to introduce you to my brother, Miss Wells’’ Isabella stood up from her seat assuming a role of an intermediary between her to companions. 

Lady Fitzwilliam’s brother, in whom Charlotte could now clearly see the resemblance to his sister, bowed deeply, a comically unseemly gesture towards a woman of her status.

‘’Harcourt Fitzwilliam at your service madam’’ his tone was almost mocking ‘’To what do I owe the pleasure of being graced with the presence of the notorious C.W, the most brazen of strumpets in all of London?’’ 

‘’Lord Fallon, I suppose’’ Charlotte decided to play along assuming her ever so playful tone she used with her culls ‘’It is he who sent me an invitation’’

‘’Ah! The devil!’’ Lord Fitzwilliam chuckled without ‘’Never passing an occasion to entertain whores’’ he proceeded to pull her aside, away from his sister.

‘’You shall be pleased to hear, Miss Wells, that I have heard about the succulence of your oyster all the way in Paris’’ he pronounced the name of the city like a Frenchman as he leant in closer, his breath smelt of wine ‘’We should retire somewhere more quiet... My rooms perhaps?’’

Before Charlotte had the chance to respond Lady Isabella swiftly interjected putting herself between the clearly intoxicated marquis and the harlot. 

‘’Miss Wells, let me offer you the sanctuary of some female company’’ her radiant smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Charlotte glanced towards the Marquis of Blayne who stepped back politely allowing Lady Fitz to gently place her hand in the crook of Charlotte’s arm before leading her away, into the gardens.

At first, they walked in silence. Isabella finally let go of Charlotte’s arm at which the latter couldn’t help but feel a soft pang of disappointment somewhere at the bottom of her chest which she swiftly muted. They passed courtiers and courtesans alike, all engulfed in an exhilarating haze of carnal attraction. Soon the noise of chatter, hoots and high-pitched fits of indecent laughter faded behind them as the two entered a quieter, more scarcely lit part of the gardens, where an atmosphere of intimacy ruled. Now they passed pairs of lovers whispering sweetly in a hushed conspiracy only those who have tasted the honeyed relish of love know.

‘’I do apologise for my brother’s bad manners, he has a talent for crudity’’ Isabella said, her voice closely guarded from revealing any strong emotion ‘’He has just arrived from France, and is hoping to return before the end of the season’’

‘’I have seen worse’’ Charlotte admitted truthfully. 

The silence that followed marked a change in mood as Lady Isabella’s face expression darkened.

‘’What of your spy?’’ she asked lowering her voice as she subtly glanced around in search of prying ears ‘’Has she learned of any of Lydia Quigley’s furtive affairs?’’

‘’Alice is a good  girl, it won’t be long before she does. Ma nearly raised ‘er from the crib’’

Lady Isabella looked ahead with a nod of understanding. 

‘’Your charge ought to be careful. Mrs Quigley is cunningly perceptive, always vigilant, and relentless in her revenge’’

‘’You know ‘er well’’ Charlotte muttered mind suddenly filled with the sour memories of her time as Quigley’s protegee ‘’Not a mouse will run by without ‘er  noticin ’. But don’t fret, my girl is shrewd, she’ll ‘ ave your secret in no time’’

‘’Do you court me as an ally, Miss Wells?’’ Lady Isabella’s lips stretched into a delicate good-humoured smile as she attempted to lighten the mood. 

Enough sour feelings have passed that day and more were surely to come but with Charlotte Wells, in whom, by a caprice of fate and circumstance, she was forced to trust, she looked for a moment of respite. 

I should hope so, otherwise I will be left without a roof over my head, Charlotte thought but she decided to play along with the noblewoman’s little game, she was sure in need of some cheering up. 

‘’A friend’’ Charlotte retorted with a soft wobble of her wigged head.

This unexpected response threw Isabella off her kilter as she came to a graceful halt in the middle of a poorly lit garden path. Lady Fitz, all throughout their acquaintance, has regarded Charlotte as an associate in her ploy, and was sure that the harlot regarded her as such also. They spoke politely, courtly, with understanding but without affection, however the lady couldn’t lie, she has grown to quite enjoy Charlotte’s visits. They provided a much-needed break from her daily routine but perhaps meant more than she has expected. She certainly never thought of being regarded by Charlotte as a friend, but in that moment, gazing into the other woman’s genuine eyes, unmarked by the taught inexpressiveness of those belonging to higher classes, she found herself wanting to grin but years of social conditioning taught her to play it down, a reflex she seemed unable to falter. 

‘’How forward?’’ Lady Isabella remarked with a raised brow, however a glint in her eye revealed her true feeling, of perhaps, fondness.

‘’But true’’ Charlotte said leaning her head backwards with mock reproach at Isabella’s disbelief.

This time Lady Fitz’s red coloured lips stretched into a gentle smile as she set off at a gentle pace leaving Charlotte to catch up as a beam of satisfaction graced the harlots own face.

~*~

As if she didn’t have enough problems for one week Charlotte received an invitation to a gambling night, from the Marquis of Blayne himself. Despite certainly having enough of bothersome lords this week she knew that by refusing she was risking causing offence to one of the wealthiest and most influential men in London and abroad, this could not only damage further her, already rather notorious, reputation but also her business. 

Charlotte folded the paper, unceremoniously stuffing it into a pocket hidden in the folds of her gown, with an exasperated huff. 

‘’What’s this,  vexin ’ you so much?’’ Nancy asked cautiously, legs propped up on the kitchen table.

‘’ Nothin ’ ‘’ Charlotte huffed, her mind immediately flying back to the matter they’ve been discussing before a messenger graced the threshold of their Greek Street brothel to deliver the invitation ‘’And you are sure you saw a bruise on Lucy’s face?’’ she asked rubbing the bridge of her nose as exhaustion set in.

Earlier that day Nancy, when out on her daily errands, stopped at Lord Fallon’s residence to visit Lucy, Charlotte’s sister with whom contact has become more less frequent since she’s become kept. 

‘’  ‘Twas as clear as shit on a  tosher’s shoe’’ Nancy’s tone darkened, face sullen as she picked on dirt behind her fingernails ‘’She tried to cover it with paint, poor lamb, but that is no easy thing to mask’’

‘’That bastard’’ Charlotte seethed through clenched teeth.

‘’Don’t go  doin ’  anythin ’ rash now Charlotte. ‘is a proper powerful man. Untouchable even, one might say’’ Nancy warned seeing the young bawd’s angered expression. 

‘’We’ll see ‘bout that’’ the younger woman declared tenaciously, voice dripping with venom as she left in a rustle of skirts.

She had a hazard soiree to get ready for.

~*~

Charlotte was not in the mood for hazard. Besides Lord Fallon she had Alice to worry about. In the weeks the girl has spent at Quigley’s she was yet to deliver any significant information. Despite her trust in Alice, Charlotte was beginning to fear a change of loyalties on her side. 

As usual, Charlotte was brought into the parlour by a pristinely dressed steward. The room was overflowing with gentlemen and women of the beau monde, many from time to time bursting into fits of laughter and grunts of disappointment. Charlotte was beginning to think that the higher classes were no less obscene when it came to play than her own peers. 

‘’Your guest, Isabella?’’ Harcourt asked turning towards his sister with a knowing and slightly mocking smirk, after spotting the harlot he’s seen only a few nights before at Lord Fallon’s night of debauchery.

‘’I thought you’d be glad to see her. Has she not been an object of your fancy not long ago?’’ there was a smile on Isabella’s lips as she passed him, but her eyes conveyed a challenge, a warning. 

‘’Miss Wells’’ Lady Fitz smiled politely as the bawd approached, relief washed over her, glad to be finally be in the company of someone she could trust ‘’We’re playing  Bestia . Pertinent given our beastly host’’ she jested glancing at her brother momentarily.

‘’Your proficiency accounts precede you once again, Miss Wells’’ said the marquis ‘’You are a fabulous player, are you not?’’

‘’I ‘ ave a daft hand sir’’ Charlotte  smirked wickedly.

‘’Of that I have no doubt’’ the corners of Blayne’s mouth curled up in a dirty leer.

‘’I would so like to witness your skill in hazard myself’’ Isabella interjected quickly to avoid the awkward direction in which the conversation was steering ‘’If you will?’’

Charlotte graced her with a radiant beam as she took her hand, glad to be dragged away from the dreadful company. 

‘’Thank you’’ she whispered as they approached a free table. 

Isabella’s head turned towards her with a gentle smile on her lips and a kind, perhaps even affectionate (if Charlotte didn’t imagine it), look in her eyes.

As the game progressed Charlotte leaning closer and closer towards Lady Isabella, who didn’t seem to mind the proximity, herself leaning over a few times to whisper  conspirationally , a word of encouragement or praise. She was far enough not to whisper in her ear but close enough for Charlotte to feel her warm breath on her neck. It sent a shiver down her spine, and not the kind that the culls did. She found the men she entertained mostly repulsive, only occasionally enjoying the deed, most times however her living depended on how well she could fake pleasure. But Isabella’s gentle breath on her neck filled her with a thrill and a warm feeling flooded her stomach. 

This seemed to wake her up, it was the kind of feeling she felt rarely in her still quite short life, a kind of feeling her profession simply didn’t allow her for, whether it be with a cull or not. Charlotte forced herself to pull awa, creating more distance between them. They were friends and allies but Charlotte could not allow herself to think of Lady Isabella as anything more.

Yet every time the heiress looked at her with her big expressive eyes, whether they be full of sadness or mirth, something turned inside her like a clog, out of place, putting her in a constant heightened state of awareness. She didn’t know when that clog had first begun to turn, but now as she sat next to Isabella watching her long fingers gently place a card in front of her with a soft, low ‘’Gioco’’, and her eyes lit up with the thrill of the game, Charlotte for the first time acknowledged that something has changed.

~*~

As the afternoon turned into night Charlotte bid her polite goodbyes to the Marquis and with a gentle brush of hands left Isabella at the door of the parlour, a flash of momentary surprise graced her face at the subtle touch.

The night air outside was chilly despite the summer season, so Charlotte in hopes of getting out of the cold headed straight for the carriage almost missing the figure hidden away in the darkness.

‘’Charlotte’’ a hiss behind her brought the bawd to an abrupt halt, her heart nearly making its way all the way up to her throat.

The woman whipped around to see a girl with a mane of ginger-coloured, not much younger than herself, hidden behind one of the columns that flanked the entrance to the manor.

‘’Alice?’’ Charlotte whispered furiously ‘’What are you doing here?’’ she was so fearful of their plan being jeopardised. 

Alice looked nervous as she cautiously glanced around before approaching the bawd.

‘’I ‘ aven’t got much time’’ she whispered  conspirationally ‘’I ‘ ave been sent ‘ere by Mrs. Quigley with a few other girls to snatch some culls, I excused me-self to the privy but they’ll be  gettin ’ suspicious if I take too long’’ 

Charlotte nodded looking around for watchful eyes before grabbing Alice by the arm and forcefully pulling her into the carriage behind her.

‘’What are you-’’ Charlotte cut the girl off with a swift ‘sush’.

‘’Speak quickly and leave right after’’ she said.

Alice nodded fervently. 

‘’I ‘ ave news. At the Pleasure Gardens, I overheard Mrs. Quigley  talkin ’ to a very merry gentleman, Lord Fallon, me-thinks were ‘is name. He blabbed like a baby,  prattlin ’,  braggin ’ about a group of wealthy gentlemen he’s involved with, who rape innocent young girls for sport’’ Alice said, disgust written plainly all over her face ‘’Spartans, is ‘ow they call themselves. And Lydia Quigley is their procuress’’ 

Charlotte scowled as her hands squeezed the edge of the seat, knuckles whitening.

‘’Are you absolutely sure of this?’’ she asked very seriously leaning towards Alice seated on the opposite end of the carriage.

‘’Quite’’ the girl responded with a grim nod. 

‘’Go now. I shall send word of what to do next’’ Charlotte nearly shoved the girl out of the carriage shutting its door and beckoning the coachman to move with a sharp knock on the wall.

As the carriage tumbled out of the drive to the Blayne Manor, Charlotte was lost in her thoughts, a grim expression on her face, lips tightly pressed together. The earlier exhilaration of the evening was gone. The news  were sombre and devastating but a way bringing justice to all the souls wronged by Fallon and Quigley alike, has now presented itself. Charlotte could now kill two birds with one stone. She wasn’t certain of the path her revenge would take yet but she was determined to do everything in her might to achieve it. Right now, she had to tell Lady Fitz. 


End file.
